Jake pulled it from the fence. “Your clothes or your body, it doesn't matter. Here's where you'll go to get off all the splatter.” He paused. “Okay, I'm guessing Hackerman has won this thing only because no one else participated. Because these clues are ridiculously easy.”

“Laundry!” I yelled, already jogging back to the cart. “The laundry building with the bathroom attached!”

Jake mumbled something behind me, but I didn't catch it.

We found the clue at the laundry building and then the one at the fire pits and the one at the sand volleyball court. They'd started to get a little bit more difficult and locating the one at the volleyball court took us nearly twenty minutes to figure out. We went back to the cabin for a quick snack—Delilah had stocked both the fridge and the pantry for us and we'd realized we hadn't eaten all day—and debated the location of the next clue. I saw the Hackermans zip by in their blinged-out black golf cart, Wayne driving, Rhonda seated next to him with her boobs still hanging out, and their two brats on the back seat. I bolted out of my chair and grabbed the golf cart key, yelling at Jake to bring the other half of his turkey sandwich with him so we didn't fall behind.

We solved the next two clues and found ourselves in a massive storage lot. There were old campers parked there, almost like a graveyard for decrepit RVs but there were boats there, too—pontoons and speed boats and shiny new canoes side-by-side up against the fence. The clue in the lot was tacked up to the door of an old trailer and the Hackermans were already there when we pulled up.

I ignored them and didn't look their way as I slid out from behind the wheel of the cart. I marched over to the trailer, my sandals kicking up clouds of dust. I read it quickly, then returned to the cart.

“You won't find it in Oregon or Appalachia,” I recited. “This one might not make you happy.”

Jake thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don't know. Let's go take a nap.”

I elbowed him and peered around him so I could see the Hackermans. Wayne and Rhonda were  leaning in close to one another, whispering as they discussed the clue. The two kids bickered in the back seat, their scowling faces almost exact replicas of their respective parents.

“No napping,” I whispered. “We need to figure this out.”

“Let's go on vacation, she said,” Jake mumbled. “It'll be fun. It'll be relaxing, she said.”

I elbowed him again. “Be quiet. And think.”

He sighed.

“Having a little trouble over there, are you?” Wayne Hackerman called out from his cart. “Not so easy is it now?”

“It's been easy so far,” I replied. “No problem at all. We're here, aren't we?”

His mouth twitched and he went back to conferring with his wife.

“What do you think?” I said to Jake. “Something about a map maybe?”

“I think I'd like to take a nap or go for a swim,” he said.

I punched him in the thigh. “Map, not nap. And we don't have time for those things! Now think!”

A cry of delight went up from the Hackerman's golf cart and the cart peeled out, gravel and rock spitting out from the back tires as they took off. I watched them leave the storage area and turn left, heading back up the hill toward the camp sites.

“Hurry!” I said, pounding on the steering wheel. “I don't want to lose to that creep!”

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. “Trail.”

“I know we are trailing!”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Oregon. Appalachia. Happy. It's talking about a trail.”

I recited it again. “Yes! You're right!”

“I know I am,” he said. “So I'm Sherlock. Not Watson.”

I thought for a moment. “But the Hackermans went back toward the camp sites. The wilderness trail is the opposite direction. It's down below the club house and goes the other way.”

“Are you sure?”

“I've pored over the map of this place,” I said. “Trust me. I know it like the back of my hand.”

“Okay,” Jake asked. “So he's wrong.”

“He's won it five years in a row,” I reminded him.

“Six,” Jake corrected. “And are you saying you think he's smarter than me?”

“I'm saying he's won it six years in a row. Maybe he knows something we don't.”

Jake folded his arms across his chest. “Okay. Fine. Why don't you follow Mr. Six Time Winner and see where it gets us?”

I thought hard. I needed to make a decision.

“You really think it's the trail?” I asked.

“Oregon. Appalachia. Happy,” he repeated. “It's trail.”

“Positive?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, then shrugged. “But why don't we follow Hackerman in his golf cart and see where he leads us? Maybe we can ask him if he's related to Ken. You know, since it looks like he inherited his driving skills from him.”

I frowned at him. “Who's Ken?”

“The shuttle driver,” he said. When I continued to stare at him blankly, he sighed. “It was a joke.”

“This is no time for jokes.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Slowly, he expelled the breath he was holding. “Okay. We can follow him if that's what you want to do.” He paused. “That way, when he finally figures it out and beats us to the medallion, I can say I told you so.”

I stared at my husband for a long moment, processing his words. What he'd just proposed sounded a heck of a lot worse than actually losing.

So I headed for the trail.

SIX

In the book of activities and maps Delilah had put together for us in the cabin, the trail was called The Wild Trail. There was no explanation as to what made it wild and, as we followed the signs past the pool and clubhouse that pointed us in the direction of the dirt trail that cut through the surrounding woods, I wondered what we'd find. Wild animals lurking behind trees? A trail that needed to be hacked through with a machete? With my imagination, I could come up with tons of plausible scenarios.

I turned to Jake to ask him but then remembered our conversation in the storage lot. I wasn't sure I wanted his opinion about anything else at that moment.

We crested a hill behind the pool and traded pavement for dirt and gravel. I pressed my foot to the pedal, urging us faster as the path narrowed to a thin dirt strip canopied by massive pine trees and wild berry bushes. The trail was full of ruts and ditches and I swore under my breath and slowed the cart down to avoid toppling over. In some spots, the tree branches reached so far over the trail that Jake and I found ourselves leaning toward the middle of the cart, our shoulders bumping together.

There were few open spaces as we careened down the trail, the path descending deeper into the forest as it twisted and curved. I kept my eyes open, but didn't see a clue or the medallion pinned to a tree or lying in the middle of the path.

I eased my foot onto the brake until we came to a stop. It was quiet, save for a few birds chirping high above us in the tree branches. “I don't see anything,” I finally said.

Jake glanced around us. “Really? I see trees, the path, birds, shadows—”

“You know what I mean,” I said, irritated. “I don't see anything related to our hunt.”

“Just keep going,” Jake said. “We're already here. Let's see what we see.”

I slumped forward and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. “He's going to beat us.”

“No, he won't,” Jake said, rubbing my back. “We're on the right path.” He paused. “Get it? Because we're on a path?”

I lifted my head up and glanced at him. “I get it.”

I slid my foot off the brake and the wheels turned in the dirt and gravel as we started down the path again. We came to a near ninety degree turn, with a massive tree sitting right in the middle of the trail. I maneuvered around it and saw, just up ahead, a very tiny clearing off to the right of the path. There was a small wooden bench with a large boulder parked next to it.

I pulled into the clearing and set the parking brake. “This is the only thing we've seen so far on this trail.”